


don't want to see the day when it's dying

by twoschoolfourcool



Series: twilightverse [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 03:09:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoschoolfourcool/pseuds/twoschoolfourcool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>marius snorts and rests his hand on the back of enjolras’ neck, pulling at the hair struck there. it’s hot, one of the hottest summers district 12 has seen in years. marius’ house has electricity, but enjolras and his siblings suffer in the heat. they’re sitting on the floor in the living room, their faces towards the door to catch the stray breeze that floats through. it’s two days to the reaping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't want to see the day when it's dying

**Author's Note:**

> i am so sorry for this
> 
> warning for: extreme artistic license, minor character death, mention of previous character death, mentions of violence, mentions of sex, lack of capital letters and punctuation, and a vague mention of prostitution 
> 
> um yeah i have no words for this. i just wanted to write something and i saw the movie twice and this idea wouldn't leave me alone. unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine. comments, kudos, and concrit always welcome! thanks for reading!
> 
> title taken from the beautiful song 'twilight' by elliot smith

“there are no guns in the arena,” enjolras says, trailing his fingers down the side of marius’ face, around his nose and across his lips. “too quick for the capital. you’re a crack shot anyway.”  
  
marius snorts and rests his hand on the back of enjolras’ neck, pulling at the hair struck there. it’s hot, one of the hottest summers district 12 has seen in years. marius’ house has electricity, but enjolras and his siblings suffer in the heat. they’re sitting on the floor in the living room, their faces towards the door to catch the stray breeze that floats through. it’s two days to the reaping.  
  
“you have such confidence in me,” marius says. “my name is in there once. my grandfather ensured it. what about you? and luc and marie?”  
  
enjolras sighs from deep inside his chest and turns to sit cross legged, facing marius. he leans forward and tilts his head. marius takes the hint and reaches to meet him in the middle, their lips pressing softly together for a fraction of a moment. it’s too short for marius’ taste. anything shorter than an eternity with enjolras is too short for him.  
  
“you worry too much for me, marius pontmercy,” he whispers, his breath warm on marius’ face.  
  
“because you don’t care enough, enjolras allemont,” marius replies, and leans forward to kiss him again.  
  
*

the day of the reaping it rains.  
  
marius appreciates the irony as he dresses in silence in his bedroom. he can hear his grandfather pattering around downstairs, and the voices of his colleagues from the mayor’s office. they all have grown children, children who have dodged the reaping for five years. his grandfather is the last with something to worry about, but next year it will be different. next year he and enjolras will be in the clear.  
  
he dresses in light colors; beige pants, a white shirt, and a blue jacket. he checks his reflection in the mirror and winces at the lines on his face, the thumb prints under his eyes. he spent the night at enjolras’ house, and they had just laid down in bed when marie came in crying from a nightmare. it’s her first reaping, so they let her sleep between them and in the middle of the night, they still laid awake, not talking, just looking at each other.  
  
“marius?” his grandfather calls up the stairs, snapping him out of his daze, “it’s time to go.”  
  
he takes one last look at himself before heading downstairs. they walk with his grandfather’s associates to the center of the district, where the stage is already set up. he spots enjolras almost immediately, dressed in bright red near the stage. it’s so enjolras that marius can’t help the smile threatening to take over his face as the peacekeepers draw his blood. marie and luc are dressed in more sedate colors, but they each have a red, white, and blue pins on their lapels.  
he makes his way over and snakes his arm quickly around enjolras’s waist, pulling him close before quickly letting him go. he knows there are other people like him and enjolras in panem, but the peacekeepers are already skeptical of the ABC and marius doesn’t want to draw any more attention to them.  
  
“good morning, cher,” marius says, using an endearment he once read in one of his grandfather’s old books.  
  
enjolras turns and smiles at him. his hair is wet and matted to his face, his blonde curls hanging limply over his eyes. and jesus, if he isn’t the sweetest sight marius has ever seen. “so how many times is your name in there this year? eight? ten?”  
  
enjolras elbows him in the ribs. “be nice. and seven, for your information.”  
  
marius looks around. the new crop is bigger than it was last year. more scared 12 year olds clinging to their parents and looking so small, smaller than marius remembers ever being. if he had to guess, he’d say maybe 200 boys and 150 girls in it this year. then he feels sick. like sending a 12 year old to their death is going to be any consolation for he and enjolras being together.  
  
there’s a tapping on the microphone and then selvie is on stage, as bright and perky as ever. she goes through the history, and then they have to watch that god awful video like they do every year. marius hooks his pinky with enjolras’ as he watch their tributes from last year, both ABC members, get slaughtered at the cornucopia. there’s a smattering of applause at the end, drowned out by selvie’s booming claps.  
  
“wasn’t that uplighting?” she asks, “and now, ladies first.”  
  
the air is stale now, with fear and tension. enjolras lays his hand on marie’s head and luc gripes marius’ hand. enjolras still has his pinky in a death grip. selvie dips her pale hand into the bowl of names and swirls it around before emerging with a crisp piece of paper. she opens it with a flourish before grinning and turning back to the microphone.  
  
“our first tribute from district 12,” she says, “is cosette valjean!”  
  
“no,” marius whispers. “no.”  
  
cosette is a vision dresses in white as she stoically walks through the parted crowd in silence. nobody says anything and she climbs the steps to where selvie stands, waiting for her with open arms.  
  
“aren’t you a beauty,” she says, kissing cosette’s cheeks. “how about a hand for cosette?”  
  
silence. marius can feel his hand begins to shake. cosette and he were friendly, with his grandfather working in the mayor's office with her guardian, jean. lots of people in district 12 are being raised without their parents. cosette’s mother died in the same fever that took enjolras’ parents. marius was infatuated with cosette when she first arrived in the district. she was beautiful and whip smart and marius had pictured them getting married and growing old together. he’s pretty sure his grandfather envisioned the same thing. it was, of course, a pipe dream. the very next year, on his thirteenth birthday, marius met enjolras and never looked back. he never forgot cosette, though, and still valued her friendship and guidance as he helped to assemble the ABC.  
  
and now he watches her, a grey figure, being led to the slaughter.  
  
“and now the gentlemen,” selvie says. her hand dips into the jar and marius holds his breath. enjolras leans back against his chest and takes his hand. it’s suddenly very cold.  
  
“marius chenard!” selvie calls. “where are you handsome?”  
  
it’s very quiet around him. his heart is in a vice and the first thing he thinks is that he has to stop enjolras.  
  
“no,” he says, gripping his wrist and swinging him around to face him. “no, no. don’t do what you’re thinking cher, stand down.”  
  
enjolras looks at him and his eyes are shining with tears. marius pulls him to his chest, not caring who’s watching and pressing his nose to the spot just under enjolras’ ear. “listen, okay. marie needs you, luc needs you, the ABC needs you, okay? you need to stay here. hey, hey, you made it, love. you’re safe.”  
  
he pulls back and brushes his fingers with enjolras’ until he sees the peacekeepers coming down the stage to take him away. if the brush of enjolras’ fingers is the last trace of human goodness he gets, let him die now.  
  
*  
  
jean valjean is the first visitor he gets after his grandfather leaves. a man of few emotions, he offered nothing more than a pat on the shoulder and a vow to get the best sponsors possible. he wonders if they’ll even let enjolras visit him. they’ll probably figure that the young leader of a budging rebellion and one of the tributes from a wildcard district won’t mesh well. he’s not above begging to see him.  
  
“the two of you,” valjean says, sitting down across from marius. “when you were with her she smiled all the time.”  
  
a sob crawls its way into marius’ throat and gets stuck there. “i’m sorry, sir. i’ll do everything in my power to make sure she comes home to you.”  
  
valjean shakes his head. he digs around in his pockets, blackened from work in the mines, and pulls out a frayed pin. it looks just like the one enjolras wears everyday. “it’s from the first revolution, many years ago. thirty, fourty, a long time ago. it’s a sign of freedom,” he reaches over and pins the cloth to marius’ jacket. “your boy has the right idea. we need another rebellion. and you have to lead.”  
  
marius feels his mouth drop open as he gapes. “i-i don’t understand.”  
  
“you will,” valjean says. “change is in the air, marius. you are going to be the change. and you won’t fail us.”  
  
he stands up and pats marius on the shoulder. “i’ll send enjolras in, then? goodbye, marius. keep my daughter safe.”  
  
“wait!” marius calls at his retreating back. “i don’t understand!”  
  
the door opens and then closes and then marius has an arm full of enjolras. he’s a mess; his red jacket is ripped, he’s covered in dirt, and has a deep scratch on his face. he wraps his arms around enjolras’ waist and buries his face in the soft skin of his neck.  
  
“jesus, what happened to you,” marius breathes. “cher? did they hurt you?”  
  
enjolras chokes on a laugh that turns into a half sob. “your name gets picked and all you care about is me?”  
  
marius tilts his chin towards the dim lights hanging from the ceiling. he can make out the beginning of bruising around his mouth and his blood turns to ice. “oh no. oh, enjolras, love, no. you promised, you promised, no more, no more of this.”  
  
enjolras shrugs and his eyes look dull and gray. “what does it matter? i’m losing you, chances are i’ll lose the ABC too. luc and marie need to eat. i can’t get work in the mines.”  
  
“no,” marius snaps. “listen to me. you can’t go back to doing this, understand me? people depend on you, they need you.”  
  
he wraps enjolras up in his arms and feels all the tension dissolve from his body. he kisses him on the forehead, his nose, and finally on his lips. enjolras sighs and cups marius’ face with his hands. they pull apart slowly and rest their foreheads together.  
  
“when i get back,” marius whispers. “when i get back we’ll go this for real, yeah? what do you say? you wanna get married?”  
  
enjolras laughs and kisses him, long and deep. “okay. yeah, okay.”  
  
marius smiles and that’s how the peacekeepers find them, wrapped up in each other arms, and marius wipes the tears from enjolras’ face as he’s lead away to the capital.

*  
  
he sits across from cosette on the train. neither of them say anything, but occasionally they’ll catch each others eye and smile sadly as if to say, i’m sorry this is happening to you. he leans his head against the window and watches the trees sway in the wind.  
  
“so!” selvie says brightly, taking the seat across from them. “don’t you two make a dashing pair?”  
  
they say nothing. cosette looks at her fingernails and marius clears his throat. he supposes he and cosette look nice next to each other; he finds her attractive enough, he supposes. no doubt there’ll be some buzz regarding their relationship. he’s already dreading caesar's interrogation. he never talked about it with enjolras and he wonders if revealing their relationship will help him or hinder him in the arena.  
  
“so,” cosette says quietly. “i-i saw you and enjolras at the reaping. are you guys-i mean the two of you-”  
  
“yes,” marius says. “we are. we’re going to get married when-” he chokes “-if i come back.”  
  
she nods. “oh.”  
  
they ride the rest of the way in silence. district 12 has no living victors, so for the most part, he and cosette are on their own. chances are, they’ll get some paid consultant once they get to the capital, someone who’s paid to study the culture and tactics of the games, someone who couldn’t care less if they win or lose. he shivers at the thought of seeing the tributes from districts 1 and 2, who have volunteers almost every year. their mentors are probably strong and young.    
  
marius sighs and traces the path of a raindrop down the window of the train. he ends here.

*

the capital is a whirlwind of sights and sounds. he and cosette are whisked away to meet their stylists and get made up. his stylist is a women named tanya who has pale golden skin and bright purple hair. she pulls at his hair and presses a sweet smelling cream to his face as she talks on and on about his bone structure, the crop of tributes this year, and the upcoming cosmetic procedures she has planned. he keeps his eyes trained on the ceiling and tries to remember the curve of enjolras’ smile and the feeling of his bare skin. tanya pulls sharply on his hair and he is cruelly ripped from his daydream.  
  
“there,” tanya says. “oh, honey, you’ll be a sight for sore eyes in the arena. now, chop chop, to costuming!”  
  
he meets up with cosette and selvie before the tribute parade. they’ve dressed him in a skin tight leather suits and rubbed black make up all over his face. cosette looks....better than he does, at least. she’s dressed in an all black ensemble and her hair hair is pulled back into one long braid down her back. her face is pale and marius can’t tell if its from pounds of makeup or because she’s so overwhelmed with the situation.  
  
“you look....nice,” marius says during their chariot ride. “i mean, the black suits you.”  
  
cosette barely looks at him. “look, marius. we both know that you have the best chance out of the both of us to win this thing. i-i think it would be best if we....put some distance between us. you know, i don’t want...whatever this is to get in your way in the arena, you know?”  
  
“no,” marius says. “i don’t know. are you-are you saying you’re just going to accept defeat? you’re not even going to try and fight in there?”  
  
“yes,” cosette snaps. “what do i have marius? nothing. an overprotective father, a comfy life in fucking district 12, a few friends on a good day. but you-you have so much. you have enjolras, and the ABC, and your grandfather who needs you.” she leans in and marius can smell flowers in her hair. he suddenly remembers why he thought he was in love with her all those years ago. “maybe you need this as much as panem needs you,” she whispers and leans in to press a soft kiss to his cheek.  
  
“i love you,” he says. “i-i’ve always loved you a little. when you first moved here.... i thought you were so beautiful.”  
  
she laughs and leans in to him. “but you’re not in love with me. you’re in love-”  
  
“with enjolras,” he finishes for her. “i’ll always love him. he’s just. dynamic, you know? and if i-if i win, i can protect him and his brother and sister. we might not be able to like, sing it from a mountain, but we’ll know, get it? i think that’s enough for me.”  
  
for a second he feels guilty for already talking about his victory in front of her, but then he sees the light in her eyes, the spark that he hasn’t seen since they were children. she glows now, and she’s never been more beautiful to him. he thinks, if he does in the bloodbath, or if he dies of starvation after five days in a tree, if he doesn’t come home, this is the moment he want to remember. he never wants to forget cosette, or jean valjean, or the rain coming down in district 12, or the way enjolras’ hair always sticks to his forehead in the rain, and the heat, and the snow. he’ll remember the cut of his grandfather’s suit and the cramped, stale air during ABC meetings.  
  
he kisses cosette’s forehead, and lets her lean against his chest as the chariot rolls down the path. to observers, it might look like they’re a young couple who have been dealt a bad hand. maybe everyone expects them to pull out a victory, the two of them making it to the end until he sacrifices himself for her, or something equally as cavalier. he smiles to himself and rubs his hand up and down cosette’s arm. let them speculate. let them live their comfy capital lives with nothing to think about but the next color they’ll dye their hair. it will be over soon, marius thinks. it will all be over.

*  
  
later, as he watches the girl from district 3 bury her axe into cosette’s back, he remembers her face when they were riding in the chariot. he remembers promising jean valjean to keep his daughter safe and valjean just laughing it off. he remembers enjolras crying for days after gavroche, the youngest member of the ABC was reaped and killed in the bloodbath last year. he remembers all the nights he spent with enjolras, the night he lost his virginity, and the first time they told each other “i love you”. he remembers the light catching cosette’s hair and her laugh in district 12. he remembers everything in that moment.  
  
later, when he hears the cannon after he snaps the girls from district three’s neck, he remembers the rain on his face and falling steadily in district 12.  
  
there are three tributes left.


End file.
